


Hold Me Like You Mean it

by acatbyanyothername



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally constipated Qui Gon Jinn, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Qui Gon Jinn Gets a Hug, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Qui-Gon Jinn Needs a Hug, This is a hug fic in case you hadn't notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatbyanyothername/pseuds/acatbyanyothername
Summary: Hugs! Sleepy hugs, desperate hugs, casual hugs
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 80
Kudos: 151
Collections: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan Discord Server Secret Santa (2020)





	1. Bandomeer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyber-erso (aoraki)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoraki/gifts).



> For the lovely Kyber! I saw your prompt and went feral! Thank you to treescape for organising the challenge!
> 
> Thank you to, Pomiar, [Tess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessiete/pseuds/tessiete), Scruffy, for your unwavering enthusiastic support, and Lils, my precious beta

When Obi Wan finally became Qui Gon's padawan, his joy was quiet. He had learned to keep his feelings to himself, to dim the blaze of them to an ember. Too passionate they said, too headstrong, angry Master Jinn had said. 

And his master and him did not touch. Qui Gon kept his hands hidden away in the folds of his robes. Obi Wan kept his hands to himself, or tried to. A padawan shouldn't tug on his braid. A padawan should be a dignified and silent presence at their master's side, they shouldn't be seen nor heard.

Obi Wan had learned to tuck himself away and watch. It hadn't prevented Xanatos from finding him, collaring him and enslaving him. So he vowed to do better. He would learn until someday Qui Gon Jinn could say he was proud of him, a smile on his lips and joy in his eyes.

That wasn't yet the case. Bandomeer had awoken shadows in the master's eyes. A midnight ghost lived in the space between Master and Apprentice, and at times the chasm felt insurmountable.

In those times, Obi Wan cherished the memory of the mine. It had been dark, oppressive, but the weight of the collar had brought peace, clarity and resolution. He had pressed himself against the seal, ready to use his collar to make it blow up. 

He remembers the anguish in the Master's eyes when Obi Wan calmly pleaded with him. He still doesn't quite know what the Master did with the Force. He doesn't care. Because what he remembers most are strong arms. A desperate voice pleading with him. The soft press of jedi tunics reminiscent of home. The smell of sweat and tears. Long hair tickling his face as he was pressed against a solid chest and a hammering heart.

This embrace is desperate, dirty, almost crushing Obi Wan in it's intensity. Trembling arms try to encircle Master Jinn, try to give some meager reassurance. But he's shaking too much. So instead he lets himself go and gives himself wholeheartedly to the hug. 

He doesn't try to think of the possibility of another hug. Live in the moment his Master would say, and what can a padawan do but obey?

He wished he could share this feeling of warmth with Qui Gon. The Force is everywhere, it binds everyone and everything together but her embrace is cold and aimless. It brings no comfort. But his Master hasn't reached out to him since, walled in the silence of memories that Obi Wan can't access nor compete with.

But he tries, oh how he tries to find the same comfort in the shared cups of tea in their quarters, fingers wrapped around a smooth and steaming cup. Only then do they feel at peace. His Master is relaxed and Obi Wan is content. They coexist side by side in silence. But they do not touch.


	2. Mandalore

Obi Wan soon learns however that those barriers fall once Qui Gon is asleep. Space travel is  _ cold _ . And only his master's arms can help him keep the chill at bay. They protect him, enclose him in a cocoon of warmth. His Master also shields him in the Force, his presence wrapped around his padawan's.

But they didn't hug aside from space travel when his master had realised his padawan was systematically affected by the cold of hyperspace, lips tinged blue and fingers invisible behind layers of slightly too-long robes and tunic sleeves. And so without a word, he had taken Obi Wan into his arms, pressed him against his chest. Obi Wan had never been cold again on those nights and visions that plagued his sleep tended to leave him in peace too.

Then Mandalore happened. They were on the run for the better part of a year. Escorting the young Duchess Satine Kryze from Coruscant to Mandalore hadn't gone as planned and now they were being chased across all the Mandalore system with a bounty on their head.

One year in close proximity means that they can't help but touch each other, if only to keep the cold at bay during the night, when they have to set camp, eat or take care of the others' injuries. They have long ago run out of any medical supplies they had and now they simply make do. 

Being on the run also means that his master and him are in a constant state of vigilance. Their bond is alight at all times and has never been so strong. It glows in the Force like a beacon, and more often than not, it's Obi Wan's only source of comfort.

Obi Wan despises being on the run with his entire being. The humid heat is cloying, he feels like he's not breathing air but water in his lungs. His heavy tunics stick to his body like a second skin. His hair has long grown out of his padawan cut, and keeps falling in his eyes, adding to the perpetual irritation of everything else. The young duchess finds it roguish, his master, amusing. Obi Wan doesn't agree with either of them. He hates it.

He feels trapped in this closeness that their situation thrust upon them. Each way he looks there's either the duchess or his master. And while he wants to relish in this new found closeness with his Master, the young duchess fascinates him. And when her sharp wit proves to be too biting, he looks upon his Master to find the older man's gaze either averted or looking at him with barely veiled mirth. It makes something burn in Obi Wan's gut.

Between the heat, his Master, the Duchess, and the state of constant alertness, Obi Wan wants to crawl out of his skin. He meditates when he can, losing himself in the currents of the Force, diving deep into the depths of the Unifying Force, looking for guidance he tells his master when asked. The truth is different. Only in the Force can he let go of the confines of his body and mind, losing all sense of self. 

He ignores his Master’s concerned looks but he still feels off-kilter. It doesn't help that his body decided to hit a growth-spurt just before the mission. And despite the lack of nutrition, his body grows without his consent or input and he has trouble grounding himself in it.

It's not that surprising Obi Wan reflects later that he would so utterly fail at defending the young duchess from a swarm of venom mites. No brandishing his lightsaber would help, a fact that Satine abrasively berated him about, accusing him of being way too prompt to draw his lightsaber. He has no answer to offer her, except that holding his lightsaber is the closest he gets to feeling himself among all the wrongness. But it is too personal an answer, and he doesn't share it.

Instead they tumble down a cliff. Obi Wan is too busy trying to keep the mites at bay, and he doesn't notice as he is pushed back little by little, losing ground. Satine falls first. Her foot meets air and she falls backward with a cry, hand shooting out and tangling itself in Obi Wan's tunic. It's his turn to be airborne for one infinite moment. 

The venom mites are forgotten, all Obi Wan can see is the verdant luxurious foliage of the trees around them, all he can hear is his heartbeat, steady as always, all he can feel is the duchess’ hand, pulling him down, down, down, but for now the pull of gravity has no hold over him yet.

They fall. The Force shrieks around him and flares with alarm that is not his own. He hears his Master for the very first time, not with his ears, but with the Force. His voice is a thundering roar. It stuns Obi Wan back to his senses and his training takes over. He brings the Force into gear, slowing down their fall, twisting so he could now protect the duchess with his body.

The impact as he hits the ground still knocks the breath out of his lungs, and he lands badly, his ankle giving away under him. Satine slips from his grasp but ultimately doesn't need his help to right herself. He's almost too busy berating himself once again for not being aware enough of his surroundings that he almost misses his Master hurtling down the cliff with the Force.

Long hair flying around his face in wild disarray, the sun lighting up the strands as if they had caught golden fire, cloak billowing all around him making him appear even more imposing than his Master normally was, the sun casting his silhouette in dramatic shadows, watching his Master fly towards him, Obi Wan almost forgot to breathe. 

It was like falling all over again, his stomach dropping off, the pit making itself known again, the earth disappearing from under his feet. Except that he's at the bottom of the cliff and he doesn't understand this sudden vertigo. He feels hot, his cheeks flaming, his mouth dry for the first time since they landed on this planet. And then it's all over.

His Master hugs him fiercely. Not as fiercely as he did on Bandomeer. But fierce enough that any breath that Obi Wan had gotten back into his lungs is forcefully expelled. His arms come around his master's torso and squeeze in return. He buries his nose in Qui Gon's shoulder and breathes. Sweat and heat and an earthy scent, typically Qui Gon. His Master isn't a god anymore, that illusion has dissolved with the sheer reality of him, but Qui Gon gives Obi Wan something even more precious.

For the first time since the beginning of the mission, Obi Wan feels defined. He is intimately aware of where he ends and where Qui Gon begins. He hugs Qui Gon back as fiercely as he is being hugged and feels the Force flow through him from the tip of his hair to the soles of his feet. Luminous beings we are, says Master Yoda, and for the first time, Obi Wan sees it, feels his glowing self in the Force as he basks in his Master's love.

Maybe this mission is not a total disaster. It is not Bandomeer, and Qui Gon doesn't let him go, even as he eases his embrace. Obi Wan can't bring himself to feel any shame when he meets Satine's eyes. She may be a flame, sharp and bright but it is not what he seeks. She might have been, but in another life, another time. For now, he is exactly where he wants to be.

"You should really stop making me worry so much, Padawan," Qui Gon gently admonishes. "One day I fear you will make me go as bald as Master Windu with worry." Obi Wan can't help but chuckle dryly despite the pain in his ankle. He would deal with it, later. For now, he relishes in his master arm around his waist as he limps forward.


	3. Coruscant

After Mandalore, they touch each other more. The spark that Obi Wan had felt on Draboon had not died down but instead of catching fire, it continued to simmer, warming him from the inside. A soft glow that made his smile a touch brighter, a touch fonder when his eyes caught Qui Gon's own.

They are in their quarters in the Temple, between missions and Obi Wan is making tea. He's carefully measuring the tea and transferring the leaves from their box to the teapot. His movements are careful, precise, unhurried. They don't usually have much opportunity for this soothing ritual when out of the temple, and as such Obi Wan makes sure to follow the proper steps whenever he can, taking his time.

He counts the time for the tea to be perfectly brewed and then carries the pottery teapot to where Qui Gon is lounging on their couch. He loves the fit of the mild curve in his hand, it's round shape, it's pure, elegant and simple lines. He brings over the tray with both their teacups and deposits the whole set on their small tea table.

He doesn't say a word, serene silence hanging over the both of them as he makes himself comfortable on the couch, nestling against Qui Gon. His growth spurt seems to have halted some years ago, much to his chagrin, and his body has now taken its adult shape. He's not as broad or tall as Qui Gon and he has resigned himself to this fact.

But it does make for the most perfect fit when he comes to rest against his master in times such as these. His head rests comfortably on Qui Gon's shoulder, and one of his Master's arms comes around his shoulders, in a distracted casual one armed hug.

As much as Obi Wan loathes to disturb such quiet moments of respite, he doesn't want the tea to get cold and he nudges Qui Gon a bit.

"Master, tea is ready," he says softly. Qui Gon hums a little before tearing his attention away from whatever he's reading on his datapad. The arm that rested comfortably around Obi Wan's shoulders slips away and he mourns the warmth for a brief moment. But not for long. 

Not when he watches his Master unfurl his long frame and bend at the waist to clasp the tea cup delicately in his large hands.

His hands are so different from Obi Wan's own, long fingered and elegant. With square and blunt fingernails, they are powerful hands, made to build and mold and craft. 

He remembers when Qui Gon had taken his hands and guided them on a little piece of wood, showing him how to carve it. He had settled behind Obi Wan, a warm presence at his back and guided the knife as it took out chips after chips, letting a previously hidden form emerge. 

Obi Wan had been delighted. As much as he had loved to piece together ships models when he was younger, this felt even better. He loved the feeling of the wood in his hands, the rough texture giving way to something smoother as he worked. The first shapes he had carved had been simple ones, but became more and more intricate. 

When they sit leisurely side by side on the couch, not talking, just existing together, their bodies pressed against one another, Obi Wan feels the same content warmth flowing through his veins. His body holds no tension, shoulders low and arms loose, legs tucked under him.

Now it's his time to carefully reach for his cup of tea, settling a bit further away from Qui Gon on the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply the fragrant curls of steaming tea. His master's quiet voice pierces through his peace.

"I don't even think Master Yoda shows as much reverence as you do for tea, padawan," he says. Obi Wan snorts.

"Oh I know. But knowing how Master Yoda makes his tea, that doesn't surprise me in the least. Never have I tasted anything so bitter." 

Qui Gon looks at him fondly. "Such impertinence, padawan. I wonder where you get it from."

Obi Wan can't stop the smile that spreads across his lips. "Certainly not from you, Master."

"Imp," rumbles his Master. And then his eyes stop on Obi Wan's braid. He reaches out for the thin strands and smooths them between his fingers. It's a bit in disarray, as much as Obi Wan will allow it to be, and a shiver runs down his spine.

"Go take a brush padawan, please." Qui Gon asks softly and Obi Wan swiftly complies, coming back with a brush in hand and sitting himself face to face with Qui Gon. His master tenderly takes off the leather tie and winds it around his fingers. He deftly unbraids the three strands and brushes them while humming an off-key tune under his breath.

The rhythm of the brush as it goes back and forth, taming the wild russet strands, is hypnotic until it ceases and Qui Gon rebraids his hair and ties it off, giving it one last stroke before letting go of the braid. Obi Wan scoots closer and hugs Qui Gon. 

The hug is a little awkward because of their position, of the broadness of Qui Gon's torso, but it doesn't deter Obi Wan. He hugs his Master fiercely, pressing his thanks, his love, his care and everything he feels into this embrace. Then he gets up, scoots the tea tray, the brush and goes to tidy their quarters, while his Master goes back to his reading on the couch. Content.


	4. Somewhere in the galaxy

Qui Gon was being bantha-headed again, and Obi Wan has had kriffing _enough_ of it. He knew his Master and he had seen his expression when the priestess of the woods had called him "great warrior". 

His master was too well used to concealing his emotions behind an amiable expression, or, in this case, an annoyed one to let it show how much her words had disturbed him, but Obi Wan had felt Qui Gon's flinch through their bond before shields had slammed up.

Despite claims of living in the moment, sometimes his Master was struck by a flight of fancy and would spend nights in the archives pouring over some arcanes prophecies. 

This pattern tended to emerge whenever Qui Gon got into a particular bad argument with the council or when missions left him shaken up. He would wall Obi Wan out and sink into research.

Their last mission was no different. Qui Gon had secluded himself on one of the Temple's many terrasses, brooding. Master Yoda had had no trouble at all finding him, his Master was broadcasting his displeasure quite clearly after all.

He'd not been privy to Qui Gon's conversation with Yoda, but Depa commed him to inform him there was a shuttle ready for him if he wanted to. He had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't the only one worried about Qui Gon. 

So now he's reduced to following his Master's shuttle as Qui Gon left the temple for an unknown location, "following the will of the Force" as he said. Obi Wan had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't the Force his Master was following, seeing as the Force was rarely ever so forthcoming as to diligently point them out to what they were seeking.

At least not in Obi Wan’s experience. The Force crashed on him in visions he couldn't escape or spoke to him in arcane whispers that he couldn't really understand, leaving him with a lingering sense of disquiet. But he was no Master, and Qui Gon always had more affinity for the Living Force.

He follows Qui Gon through hyper-space to a luxurious blue-green planet. Lush grass covers the rolling plains between serene blue mountains. No trace of any sentient species except for Qui Gon and him. Obi Wan can't help but notice the beauty around him, the flora with its humanoïd-height mushroom colonies and sprays of violet leaves reminds him of underwater plants undulating with invisible currents.

But Qui Gon doesn't really seem to notice as he charges ahead, stopping from time to time to orient himself, but he seems uncharacteristically blind to this excess of the Living Force. Obi Wan bites his lips. Any guilt he had of following his master falls away under the mounting dread. Something is wrong. 

He's very well acquainted with Qui Gon’s stubbornness and determination. But this is different. Is this really the Force that drives his Master so? The Force doesn't do Obi Wan the honor of talking to him so. Instead it slips through his fingers, elusive, and his only guide is his bond with his master. But even this familiar beacon feels dimmed, as if Obi Wan was looking through a dense mist.

He suddenly stops dead in his tracks. His bond with Qui Gon, which had already been walled up since Coruscant abruptly goes dead silent. His heart forgets to beat for a small eternity and his hands begin to shake. Nausea rises up, overwhelming, choking. He tries to release his panic to the Force. It's returned tenfold, cloying and oily and dark.

Corrupted. Rotten.

All of a sudden the planet stinks, sickly sweet. Blood-red and bruised-purple brambles rip at him. He looks up. A twisted monolith looms in front of them, towering over everything, rising from the broken crust of the planet whose jagged edges surround the monstrosity. 

Surely Qui Gon is going to turn back now and chastise Obi Wan for his indiscretion. But no. Qui Gon's stride doesn't even waver. _A jedi shall know no fear._ How brave they all were in the creche, staring solemn eyes at each other while deciding to brave the dark and labyrinthine corridors of the Temple at night.

But here, on this unknown planet, Obi Wan is gripped by a profound fear, a terror he can't quite understand. His feet won't move and he is chilled. Despite the mild weather, he is drenched in cold sweat. His hand instinctively comes to rest on his lightsaber. But he knows it will do him no good here.

Instead he watches petrified as Qui Gon solemnly climbs the violaceous stairs to the throne that stands at the top of the steps. This is a mockery of everything the Jedi hold dear. Theirs is a life of service not of power. How can Qui Gon forget that? Flames sparkle under his sternum, a seething inferno begging to be set ablaze chases the chill away. 

The Force rages around him as he cleaves the path to Qui Gon, and finally his feet hit the first step. Anger pulses in him, bright, clear, tantalizing. Each step is harder than the last, but Qui Gon is not the only stubborn one. Light falls away as he climbs. Darkness has sunk its claws here and won't release her hold.

He finds Qui Gon, eyes closed, legs crossed, as serene as if he was meditating in the Jedi temple, seemingly unaffected by their surroundings. Up close the throne is even more hideous than he previously thought, a swarming mass of blight, frozen precariously in this cursed shape.

Nausea threatens to burn Obi Wan's throat and it takes almost all his energy to keep his shields up. This place is hungry and it seeks to devour. He won't let it. Obi Wan takes a breath, visualises it's path through his body and lets it cleanse him from all miasma. Only then dare he finally touch Qui Gon. 

It was a mistake. He's sucked into Qui Gon's vision, the world turning upside down. He now stands in the middle of infinite plains of blue, shot through with dark crevices that fill with blood red liquid. Brambles like the ones that ripped at Obi Wan before shot up from the ground towards Qui Gon and his master is surrounded in no time. 

Fear and anger crystallise in cold hard determination. Qui Gon is _his_. This place can't have him. He belongs to the Light and to the Jedi, not to this mockery of the Living Force. He leaps in front of Qui Gon, as he did so many times before, ready to raise his lightsaber and fight side by side with his Master to protect him.

He doesn't have time. A searing pain tears through his insides and he screams, vision going white. He feels himself falling. And suddenly he's not lying in a pool of slaughtered perverse vines but in the middle of jedi corpses. 

A wail tears through his throat, and he cries and cries and cries louder and louder as visions of younglings corpses overlay the adult ones. The green of the lightsaber becomes glacier blue and phantom blaster shots echo in his ears. In a desperate and futile attempt to escape the carnage he gives himself over to oblivion.

There's a voice, calling him. No. Begging him to open his eyes. Broad palms frame his face, familiar callused hands stroke his cheeks. They are wet. Strange. He doesn't know where he is. His head is pounding, his throat feels raw, his eyes are burning. He slips into unconsciousness again.

He wakes up. His muscles are burning from cramps. His bones are humming. He must be in space. In a ship. That means Qui Gon got them out of this planet. Were he to never lay eyes on this planet again, it would be too soon. 

When he's brought into the Halls of Healings, Vokara Che takes one look at him and plunges him into the bacta tank. The dressing down Qui Gon took from the fearsome Vokara became the stuff of Temple Legend. 

But no one knows what happened behind the Council closed doors. Only that Qui Gon was grounded for having endangered his padawan, almost betraying one of the things the Order considered most sacred. A teacher was a guide, to show the way to their padawans. 

What Qui Gon had done was almost blasphemy. He had sought out the Dark and in doing so had almost killed his apprentice. The whole temple knew about it, Masters, padawans, and initiates alike. And whispers that had grown after Xanatos and eventually died when Obi Wan became a padawan plagued the Temple corridors again.

And Obi Wan heard them all. But when he was finally allowed back into their quarters, he didn't say a word. Now he watches in silence as his Master abased himself before him. Obi Wan is on the couch, still weak, a steaming mug of tea clasped in a death-like grip.

On his knees, Qui Gon comes to him and clasps Obi Wan's own. No tears stain his face, yet Qui Gon's eyes glistened, a veil dulling their beautiful indigo until it's just a memory.

Qui Gon took Obi Wan's hand, reverently, with utmost care and love, bringing them to his face and kissing them. 

"I come to you begging for forgiveness. I have hurt you Obi Wan Kenobi and in my blindness almost killed you." He begged. " If you don't want me as your Master anymore, I would understand padawan. I put my fate into your hands."

Still, Obi Wan looked at his proud Master now on his knees before him, in the wretched position of the supplicant. He knows how much what happened shook his Master to the core. Pride may be unbefitting of a Jedi but Qui Gon Jinn had it in spades. It was currently nowhere to be seen.

Gently, Obi Wan shakes his hands free from Qui Gon's almost crushing grasp. He still hasn't let go of Obi Wan's hand, clinging to them like a lifeline. And oh, the look Qui Gon gives him when Obi Wan takes back his hand is almost enough to gut him. He doesn't know whether to laugh or sob at the irony of the thought.

Once his hands are free, with Qui Gon bent over Obi Wan's knees, it's easy for him to reach out and clasp Qui Gon's shaking hands in his instead and haul his Master to his feet. Only then does he finally break his silence, voice rough from bacta still.

"I have heard your words, and now give you mine, Master." He takes a breath, feeling giddy with the knowledge that he holds power over Qui Gon now, that he has him in the palm of his hands, and one word from him can make or crush his Master. But he doesn't let his emotions show.

“The fault is mine also, Qui Gon. I followed you on this planet, and my own foolishness almost got me killed. You can't hoard the blame on your shoulders only. This one is a shared burden."

Breathe in, breathe out. The Light flows in him and around him, he is at peace. "I won't seek another Master, but you have to promise me one thing. No more of this madness. I have endured enough. I have accepted being left behind while you go searching for something as elusive as balance."

In and out, Obi Wan had already stated his claim back on the planet. Now he only had to let Qui Gon know. But words crowd in his mouth, and his previous euphoria has disappeared, leaving him shaking and cold.

"You always command me to live in the moment, Master. Today I find myself turning your own words against you. Live in the moment with me Master, it's time you stop running and start seeing me now."

Don't leave, never again, he wants to scream. He can't. A Jedi can't say those words. It is selfish so instead, he tugs Qui Gon down. Their hands are still clasped, but both of them are trembling by now. And they collapse against each other on the couch, Obi Wan’s arms encircling Qui Gon's torso.

They are crushed against each other. Obi Wan is cold, so cold still and weak. But Qui Gon is warm, and he's here. And relief floods Obi Wan. His master can't be comfortable like this, but still he holds Obi Wan close, engulfing him. He smells of tea and tears, of bitter regret and acrid fear. But he's still home.

"Please" he begs, as tears stream down his face. "No more. I can't take it". 

"I promise Obi Wan, I promise," comes the answering litany. They stay like that until night falls, and Obi Wan falls asleep in the arms of his Master, finally at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The planet where Qui Gon goes comes from the comic Star Wars : Age of the Republic : Qui Gon Jinn. It's a pretty interesting comic and if you can, I highly encourage you to check it out!


	5. Naboo

Naboo is when it all comes crashing down. Qui Gon is dying on the generator room's cold steel floor and Obi Wan can't let him go. He almost flies to Qui Gon's side, crashing on his knees next to the older man, cradling his master's head in shaking hands. He curls himself around Qui Gon, settles his head on his lap and touches his forehead to Qui Gon's. 

His chest is caught in a vice, he can't breathe, his mouth is desert dry and his heartbeat thunders in his ears. He's crying, he desperately wants to sob but he can't. Lonely tears roll down his cheeks as his Master imparts his final words to him, a phantom digit tracing their tracks on his face. Obi Wan will hear none of it. 

He doesn't beg, he doesn't plead with Qui Gon to change his mind or implore him to see him, to talk to him, not about Anakin, but  _ him _ . Qui Gon has promised him he would stop being afraid, and Obi Wan is angry. Because his master clearly broke his promise. 

But Qui Gon can't apologize if he dies. Obi has no choice but to save him really. And as kind as his Master thought he was by imparting Anakin's training to him, he doesn't want Anakin if there's a chance he can have Qui Gon. 

So instead of agreeing, he flings the doors of the Force inside himself wide open and disappears. He doesn't dive down as he did so many times before but up, up towards white harsh blinding light neither hot nor cold in pursuit of a fleeing spirit. He gives up all of himself in one last hopeless move, offering everything he owns and is to the Force in one last desperate bargain. And then, he knows no more.

He wakes up in the Halls of Healing. He aches. He panics for one brief moment. He is frightfully cold, shivers wracking his entire body and he's never been more aware of his physical limitations. He feels trapped, weak and clumsy like a newborn. 

Lifting a finger is like trying to lift the entire Jedi Temple, he can barely open his eyes without being completely blinded by the soft golden light that bathes the Halls. He can hear the soothing sound of the plants that populate the place as their leaves rustle and the water gurgles but he can't  _ feel  _ them. 

In fact, he can't feel anything through the Force. His breathing quickens and an ugly sob works its way up his throat. It comes out hideously gurgled and tears stream down the corner of his eyes, dampening the pillow on which his head rests. It can only mean one thing. He failed. He failed and the Force punished him for his hubris. He lost both the Force  _ and  _ Qui Gon. 

He doesn't hear the footsteps that come to a halt beside his bed nor he is thrown out of his misery until he hears the stern voice of Vokara Che. 

"Obi Wan Kenobi! Stop messing up with my patients! You are radiating enough misery to drown a Rankor. I must ask you to stop."

"I can't feel the Force" croaks Obi Wan, he doesn't have strength for more volume and already feels wrecked by the herculean effort that talking requires of him.

"Yes. You've over-extended yourself Padawan Kenobi and burned yourself out. We've finally managed to stabilize you, but you can't touch the Force for now. So stop panicking. you may not feel the Force but others can still feel you, even if it's faintly. And you're a loud broadcaster," the twi'lek healer said, levelling a piercing stare over him. "You will have to fix those shields of yours when you can."

Obi Wan looks at her and waits. He can't be the one to say the dreaded words. He can't bring himself to say them even if they haunt him. So he looks at Vokara, and waits. Something in his expression must convey what he so fiercely yearns to say because Vokara's face softens just a fraction.

"Master Jinn is here too. Fresh out of bacta." 

Obi Wan may not feel the Force at the moment, but elation tears through him. Pinned down as he is, unable to access the Force, he still soars, weightless. He can't feel him or their bond anymore than the Force and he aches. But Qui Gon is alive, and here. That's the only thing that matters. He smiles wide and free. Qui Gon is alive. He wants to fall to his knees and thank the indifferent Force for the miracle. He tries to get up but his muscles aren't cooperating, they lock and spasm and the pain tears through him, blinding. He hasn't managed to move an inch.

He's as weak as a tooka kitten and frustration rears its ugly head. At least nobody can tell him to release his frustration into the Force since he can't access it. He looks back to Vokara for a moment and her thunderous eyes. He stares back stubbornly. He refuses to back down despite the protests of his body. 

"Very well," the Healer says, her lekku twitching in annoyance. "I can see you're going to be difficult about this." Obi Wan says nothing, since trying to move drained all his energy and he has none left. He knows he's going to lose the battle of wills with Vokara, much to his chagrin.

"Focus on getting better padawan Kenobi, and in three days, depending on your progress you can go see Master Jinn. But until then I don't want to see you out of that bed, is that clear?" Obi Wan wants to object, he does, but sweet oblivion calls to him and he's tired. He loses consciousness before he can give his answer.

In the end, it doesn't take three days. Obi Wan swims back to consciousness to the press of a warm body against his, the smell of sapir in his nose, and a breath against his neck. His eyes are dry-crusted, his vision blurry, and his limbs like lead, but someone has put Qui Gon on a medical bed and pushed it next to his.

His breath that whistles through his nose has the regularity of deep healing trance, and something wild settles deep into Obi Wan's soul. Gingerly, careful not to repeat the stunt of last time and wary of Qui Gon's injuries, Obi Wan turns over and buries himself a little closer into his master's warmth, throwing an arm over the other man's hip. 

He can't hug Qui Gon like he longs to do, but this will have to be enough. His last thought before sleep gently claims him again, is that Vokara finally found the solution to make sure he obeys the Healer's order. He has no wish to move now. He's where he's supposed to be and now he can heal. 

The third time he wakes up, he's still tangled in Qui Gon, and blue eyes look back at him full of softness. 


	6. Ys-Sothoiek

Both of them coming alive and relatively well out of the Naboo disaster had not quite been how Qui Gon saw that particular mission end. If he was honest, he hadn't believed he would make it out of Theed's Generator alive. But Obi Wan had once again exceeded his expectations. He really should know better by now. But Obi Wan kept on surprising him.

Obi Wan had always burnt fiercely, and Qui Gon had been so afraid to see this flame flicker and die. The galaxy and the Force were rarely kind to those who burned so passionately. But instead of dying, the flame had been harnessed and hidden behind adamantine shields and quick wit. But Qui Gon saw it still and loved it even more as something akin to a precious secret.

Obi Wan had asked and Qui Gon had accepted, how could he not, for them to be partners after his knighting. Still, Qui Gon had set a condition. They wouldn't go on joint missions until Obi Wan was out of his wilderness years. More than everything he wanted Obi Wan to be the brilliant knight Qui Gon always knew he could be.

His newly knighted padawan had smiled mischievously, almost back to his pre-Naboo state, eyes sparkling and tender. Of course I will wait, he had said. I have waited this long, I can wait a bit longer still. And oh how Qui Gon's poor heart had missed a beat. Because Obi Wan wasn't just talking about going into the galaxy together. His padawan had long perfected the art of saying one thing which held an infinity of other meanings. 

So they had waited. This marked their first mission together and Force Qui Gon was so proud of him. His flame. His heart. They had been sent on a mission to help prevent a brewing war on a Mid Rim planet. Mining corporations had set their greedy eyes on the resources that could be found in the planet asteroïd's belt. Qui Gon hated this mission already and it had almost everything to do with painful memories of another mining corporation that had almost destroyed a lush planet and his padawan’s life years ago.

The other reason for his frustrations? Obi Wan laughing at whatever the beautiful dignitary was saying to him. Their hosts were tall humanoid-like beings, at least for their top half. Instead of legs, their torso ended in a long and sleek snake tail that made them tower easily over both Qui Gon and Obi Wan. Most of them had golden skin with brown or green highlights, but the one talking to Obi Wan had a radiant skin of pure gold. A shimmering stole was wrapped around her upper body, accentuating her beauty.

He was so focused on Obi Wan that he even forgot to enjoy the beauty of the place. Even though they were hundreds of meters underground in a massive cavern, pits brought daylight down there. The city had been entirely built around a massive underground river funneled into a multitude of channels and sets of waterfalls. The peaceful sound of the water echoed all around them across the cave walls, multiplying in a never-ending melody.

Had he come under any other circumstances, Qui Gon might have loved to explore the city with Obi Wan. But they had been denied even this pleasure. Upon landing on the desolate planet's surface, they had been greeted and then guided down one of the pits, big enough to fit a small ship, and then had been brought directly to their assigned quarters for the duration of the mission.

Years of experience had taught Qui Gon not to trust the tingling laugh, the glittering jewels nor the peaceful appearance of the city and it's towering spires and obelisks that easily reached the cavern ceiling. The utter lack of any other sounds except for the party and the water was baffling. From where he stood on the ceremonial plaza that overlooked the city, he couldn't see any market or town square nor hear the shouts and sounds of daily life. Utter silence reigned over the city.

A deafening explosion shattered the silence. Colossal geysers of water erupted in ceiling-high monstrous columns, drops falling over the plaza like rain, catching and refracting the light, painting small irised stars all over the walls. Qui Gon can't look away, completely mesmerised. 

The Force screams a warning. Too late. He is swept off his feet across the terrasse and sent hurtling toward the ornate balustrade. Before hitting it, his momentum is broken as he strikes an invisible barrier. He doesn't have to turn to know who is to thank for this. He knows that fierce yet tender presence that keeps the place from collapsing. 

Even if he didn't, their bond is alight with determination. More attuned than him to the currents of the Unifying Force, his knight must have sensed the second explosion coming and had time to bring the Force into gear and protect the place. The previously stifling silence is nowhere to be found, the air is filled with shrieks and hiss and slithering sounds as their hosts try to find futile hideouts against the attack.

Qui Gon climbs to his feet, still stunned. And Obi Wan is there, arms extended as far as he can, face set in concentration, keeping the monumental terrace from breaking apart. His beautiful partner is nowhere to be seen now. So he slides in place, at Obi Wan's side. 

They don't touch. But Qui Gon is excruciatingly aware of the heat of the body close to him, of Obi Wan’s long hair whipping around his face, his leather hair tie nowhere to be seen, of the peppery smell of him, but also of his presence in the Force as he spreads out.

It's easy, so easy to gently tap at the other's shields and ask permission to travel a well known path neither have used since Obi Wan's knighting. Their bond is still there, lying dormant, comforting. His wordless request is answered immediately without any hesitation and they join seamlessly. Qui Gon's hand finds Obi Wan's on it's own accord. He pretends he doesn't notice.

Time ceases to matter until they know everybody is finally safe away from the damaged area that threatened to collapse. They slowly come back to their senses. Qui Gon smiles at Obi Wan and gently tucks an errant strand of hair behind the other's ear, smoothing it down like he did so many times before with the long gone braid. And how beautiful is the blush that paints Obi Wan's cheeks. He wants to kiss it away. 

Unfortunately, the Force has other plans it seems. A sharp hiss and his lightsaber is in his hands, arching through the air and deflecting the blaster shot aimed at Obi Wan. They come pouring down from walls and windows and columns armed with the latest technology. An azure blade joined his own, grounded in Soresu creating an almost impenetrable barrier.

Qui Gon looked at Obi Wan. Obi Wan looked back. Grinned ferociously. They ran, Obi Wan following behind to cover their retreat and leaped into the water waiting below to the sound of furious hissing from their attackers. 

Equipped with a rebreather, they don't need to reemerge for a long time. When they do, it's to a totally different world. Gone are the luxurious sprawling buildings in vast caverns. They hadn't noticed, too focused on losing their pursuers, but the underground river had narrowed considerably, gouging deeply through the rocky undercut banks. The currents had gotten stronger too and they had to fight to not be sucked by the thrashing and thundering rapids. 

Looming stalactites hang low from the ceiling, gloomy shadows glimpsed through the mist. Qui Gon is the first to get out of the water, hoisting himself on slightly trembling arms. He pants, trying to catch his breath, breathing in the cool air deeply and waits for Obi Wan to join him. 

When he still doesn't hear any splash signalling that the other Jedi is joining him, Qui Gon's heart starts beating a little faster, he spins around, almost slipping back into the water. Obi Wan is there, head resting on his crossed arms, still half submerged in the water, his copper hair glistening silver. He's so beautiful like this. But something is wrong.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Qui Gon reaches out trembling fingers. They make connection with the soft skin under Obi Wan's jawline, and find a strong if slow pulse. His knight must have overtaxed himself first trying to keep the building from collapsing and then keeping afloat among the strong currents. A lashing reprimand is on the tip of the Jedi master's tongue. Frustration. Worry. His heart still hasn't learned to respect his limits. One day Qui Gon hopes he will…

Today unfortunately is no such day and Qui Gon has to use the Force to help him lift Obi Wan completely out of the water. They have to find shelter and soon. Not that they really lack it. Ruins of pillars, stairs and other constructions are scattered everywhere. Legions of alcoves are cut deep within the walls of the cave, dark entrances yawning like hungry mouths. They feel too much like tombs, ancient repressed memories condemned to oblivion and erosion. 

Cold seeps even through layers of tunic, the dampness of the air and Obi Wan's dead weight not helping the situation at all. But he would not trade the feeling of Obi Wan in his arms for anything in the galaxy. This unfortunately doesn't do anything to solve his quandary at the moment. He is already losing feeling in his feet already, and his hands are beginning to ache. Still he doesn't know what to do. 

Movement grabs his attention from the corner of his eye, the walls of the surrounding alcoves seem to shiver oddly and he thinks exhaustion creeping in must be playing tricks on his mind until he hears the soft hissing noises. 

From all around them Srekietes emerge. They must be, although they do not share the towering height nor the soft golden skin of their earlier counterpart. Their skin is silvery-white, they are smaller, angrier. 

They share none of the graciousness of the Srekietes back in the city but Qui Gon is too exhausted, trying to not let his light slip through his fingers, he can't fight them if they wanted to attack.

They crowd around him and Obi Wan in a concert of hiss, and volcanic defensiveness rises in Qui Gon's breast. But he does not grip Obi Wan tighter. He doesn't cross his arms in front of him or draw his lightsaber. Achingly gently, Qui Gon puts his heart on the ground and stands above him, arms raised, palms open, in a universal sign for peace. That seems to appease their "hosts".

He finds though that he can't really focus on what's going on around him. The Force is tranquil, the disturbances left temporarily behind. But he worries because if he's getting cold, then Obi Wan must be frozen. In an irony of the Force his flame always had trouble regulating his body temperature and usually ran colder than most humanoids.

Which means that now, Qui Gon's main concern is getting his knight somewhere warm. A scaly hand grabs his. Qui Gon jerks back and almost draws his lightsaber on the spot. More hissing. But they do not sound threatening. The hand comes back, telegraphing it's movement and then points first at one of the alcoves, then at Obi Wan, unconscious on the cold wet rocky ground of the cave.

Immense gratitude rises in Qui Gon and he bows deeply in thanks. His own exhaustion almost forgotten, Qui Gon bends and places his hands under Obi Wan's knees, until he's carrying the younger man in his arms. The pulse is getting weaker and he knows they are running out of time despite being unable to tell Obi Wan's body temperature.

The alcove they enter is warmer than Qui Gon thought it would be, seeing how cold the cave was. The mystery doesn't last long. Heating stones litter the small space and they are almost immediately left alone and Qui Gon thanks the Force.

Carefully, he undresses Obi Wan, peeling off tabards and layers of tunics, exposing the lean and muscular arms, the elegant hands, peeling off pants and revealing long legs and bony ankles, until Obi Wan is only in his small clothes. 

When it's his turn to disrobe, Qui Gon is quick and efficient, he has no time to lose. He lays their drenched clothes on the warm stones to dry, spreads one of their robes on them and intertwines himself with Obi Wan. 

He stays awake, monitoring his knight with the Force until he feels his temperature rise again. Almost as soon as reassurance crashes on him, he's dead to the world. 

Qui Gon comes to slowly. It's warm and comfortable, not too hot or cold, despite laying on the ground. There's no sense of urgency either. The Force is calm and the word is still a blurry mirage somewhere that doesn’t exist yet. 

The only thing he can feel is a warm, if slightly cooler body pressed against him. The spicy minty scent is home, comfort, love and he buries his nose in that spot where neck and shoulder meet. Still half asleep, he frees an arm to tuck it around his companion, cherishing the closeness. His fingers brush against naked skin which erupts in goosebumps under his touch. He wants to hold and tease and caress but the memories of cold and dampness finally break through. 

Obi Wan. The river. His failing strength, his lethargic pulse. The warm body now. The body had been shivering the night before. It was Obi Wan. His home and his heart, and Force Qui Gon is way too old to be caught up like this. He wrenches himself away from Obi Wan, away from the warmth of their shared shelter, ignoring his companion's sleepy protests.

What is he doing? It's his first mission with Obi Wan since the latter’s knighting and not once had Obi Wan shown any interest in him, despite whatever hopes Qui Gon might have entertained after Naboo. He couldn't let his feelings come in the way of his and Obi Wan's new relationship like that. The previous warmth had completely vanished, leaving him cold. Only then did he realise he was in his small clothes.

His eyes skirt around and find his now dried clothes draped over the warm stones. He rushes through getting dressed and goes outside, to meditate…..At least that's what he tells himself. Anything to not get too close again and risk slipping. As expected, his thoughts are too restless and memories of Obi Wan's morning warmth make his fingers tingle. He's not focused enough for meditation and it slips through his fingers like water.

Their hosts from last night are nowhere to be seen again. He's alone with Obi Wan. Nobody and nothing to distract him. Obi Wan soon joins him, shuffling out of the alcove, fully clothed, but long hair tousled from sleep, and eyes soft. The Force is a cruel mistress to tempt him so, but Qui Gon let nothing show.

"Good morning Obi Wan," he greets, "how are you feeling ?"

"Fine" yawns his knight. " It seems I still have trouble knowing my limits," he adds, a little ruefully. Qui Gon says nothing. It's not his place anymore after all. He's not Obi Wan's master anymore nor does he wish to be. Besides, every new knight had to relearn their limits when they began working alone. 

He ignores Obi Wan glances, but desperately tries to keep the conversation civil. He doesn't want to alienate his heart further than he did this morning. Disquiet rings through the Force and Qui Gon is immediately alert. All traces of sleep are wiped from Obi Wan's face too, his expression falling into what Qui Gon calls his "jedi mask". 

His knight always had the astounding ability to tuck away the most personal bits of himself during missions to be replaced by a brisk and efficient persona. He recognized the signs and is ready when Obi Wan meets his eyes for the first time this morning and says they need to move on quickly.

They have no idea where their ship is and by now they are just hoping to find a path back to the planet’s surface and some place from which to send a signal for a ship to come for them. They set a brisk pace, wary of steep slippery stairs that wind upward toward a source of light. Most of the steps have fallen apart long ago, making this all the more dangerous. But a good night's rest has done wonders on both of them and Obi Wan's steps are light and assured as he forges ahead of Qui Gon.

Time has no meaning down there but what began as ripples in the Force become very real clamors growing closer and closer. Light also grows brighter and brighter around them until Qui Gon is certain they have finally found an opening. In front of him Obi Wan curses under his breath at length and in great detail. Their pursuers, whoever they are, are right on their heels. Obi Wan whirls around, mouth set in grim determination, hand around his lightsaber.

"There's no exit there Qui. It's barred by columns so thick the lightsabers can't cut through. We have to find another exit!!" They don't have time, they both know it. They would need to turn back and retrace their steps or find a way to go around the obstacles. 

Qui Gon looks around to the crumbling ruins of what must have been a glorious city once. They might not be able to turn back, but there are plenty of places to hide. They don't have much time left. Mind made up, Qui Gon snags Obi Wan's wrist and before the other can ask him what he thinks he's doing exactly, Qui Gon nudges him into the tight space between two crumbling walls.

It's tight. Barely enough space for both of them to fit. For the second time since he woke up this morning, Qui Gon senses are filled with Obi Wan. But this time he doesn't have the excuse of sleep. Obi Wan's eyes, at least from what he can see in the darkness and with the Force, are luminous. His breaths are loud in Qui Gon's ears. And he's so close, almost as close as this morning and Qui Gon is helpless. 

Obi Wan looks at him, and Qui Gon is achingly aware of how he towers over Obi Wan, of their height difference, but also of the absolute trust that shines in his knight's eyes that hasn't once left since those first days on Bandomeer. And then Obi Wan reaches out in the space between them, stopping a whisper away from Qui Gon's jaw. Qui Gon is weak. He leans in. Brushes a kiss to the precious palm. And watches as Obi Wan's eyes light up immediately and a radiant smile spreads across his lips. 

He frees his hand from Qui Gon who doesn't have time to mourn the loss before another hand reaches out, both tangling in his hair. Obi Wan tugs. It's not enough to cause pain, except the most delicious kind of all, but the message is clear. Qui Gon bows his head as Obi Wan leans up and feather-light lips  _ finally  _ kiss him. 

Everything else disappears and Qui Gon lets himself be consumed. It's Obi Wan who breaks the kiss and tucks himself into Qui Gon's arms. He fits perfectly and Qui Gon thinks this is even more precious, to have Obi Wan like this, his head resting directly above Qui Gon's heart. Qui Gon doesn't move, doesn't breathe, and it has nothing with their pursuers who have finally caught up with them. 

It's a wonder he couldn't hear them earlier. They were far from discreet. On the contrary. From the noise they make it's as if they are intent on not letting one stone rest, combing through every alcove, trashing and turning over basically everything they can. 

It's a long wait, but Qui Gon, despite beginning to feel cramped in the tight space, is for the first time in a long time utterly at peace. Obi Wan hasn't moved from his position, and his breathing now matches the beat of Qui Gon's own heart, slow and even. Qui Gon slips into meditation without even realising it. Obi Wan's radiant presence is there too, making his old heart sing. They meditate together, keeping to the superficial levels of the Force, expanding their awareness of their surroundings.

Content to have overturned every stone but still furious their pursuers, a murky swarm in the Force, leave finally. Both of them wait before putting an end to their shared meditation. When Obi Wan untucks himself from Qui Gon's side, Qui Gon mourns his warmth immediately.

But his beautiful heart has not finished with him it seems. Elegant hands frame his face, forcing him to look at Obi Wan, squarely in the eyes.

"You fool," Obi Wan whispers, "how could you ever think you were alone in this? I love you, don't you see?" His heart goes on, so utterly fearless. What a fool he's been he thinks .

"I've got you now, Qui Gon Jinn, and i don't intend on letting you go ever again, do you hear me?" He can only nod, because words elude him. The smile Obi Wan gifts him in answer is more than enough. 

Finding a way out of the caves takes them longer than both of them would have preferred. But as they come into the blinding light side by side, exhausted, they turn back one last time in some silent homage. And then, before he can grasp what's going on, Qui Gon is tackled down and pinned by a full body hug which he returns full force.

His fingers bury themselves in Obi Wan's tunics and they hug fiercely, feeling the other’s heart beat strongly, their breath as their lungs expand, the soft puff of air of their shared breath. 

"I love you" he murmurs, and knows Obi Wan can feel those words as they rumble through Qui Gon's chest. Here in the vast open he lets his secret out for the first time for the wind to carry. The caves would have kept his words forever, here they will be wiped off the surface of the planet with the next gust of wind. For the first time he's brave enough to give this precious secret to Obi Wan, it's his to keep after all.

His resplendent flame gifts them right back to him though and they laugh until they cry, still hugging like their life depends on it. When their shuttle comes for them, they board it, serene jedi masks in place, but in the secret of their voluminous robes, their hands are still interlaced.


End file.
